


Hollow Kingdom

by Werecakes



Category: Dragon Age: Origins, TMNT - Fandom, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Comics), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Dark Fantasy, Donatello just wants to be left alone, Grey Wardens, He loves his Cow, Leo tries his best to be a good templar, M/M, Mage!Donatello, Mikey loves his mama, Mikey tends to make friends wherever he goes, Raph is a tough cookie, Rogue!Michelangelo, Romance, Slow Burn, Templar!Leonardo, Thriller, Underdogs, Warden!Raphael, dark spawn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-01-05 01:33:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12180327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werecakes/pseuds/Werecakes
Summary: No one believed in the Blight, comforted by their hard won peace between Fereldan and Orlais. It left the lands vulnerable and ripe for Dark Spawn picking. After the Battle of Ostagar four survivors try to bring warnings to the Chantry and Nobility to only find the Kingdom in turmoil and forcing an unlikely band to stand their ground against the on coming darkness.





	1. Chapter 1

In this story "Dire" is the word used for "Mutants" and magic is much more difficult to master than people think.

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The tower was bright, the sun’s rays cut through the usual darkness through the tall and narrow windows. The Circle seemed to shed its usual dreary grey skin as mages went about their usual chores and classes. It reminded Leonardo a lot more of the Chantry’s orphanage than what he had been taught in training. At least, this Circle did, the last one he had been assigned to previously was lacking in many things and the Head Enchanter was more interested in self pursuit of knowledge than his people’s well being. It made it much harder for the Templars to keep order when there was barely a thread of it. When he had gotten his transfer to Lake Calenhad it was almost a Maker sent mercy. The mages of the previous Circle had tried his patience. He had been forced to do his Maker appointed duty to bind and shackle the ones that were much too unruly. He had to join in hunts to retrieve runaways. Finding them scared and huddled under threadbare blankets as if children. It didn’t matter. He had to take them back. He always took them back, no matter how much they pleaded or cried. There were a few that he had to draw his blades against. Maleficar, blood mages, that had hidden themselves in the midst of the good people that didn’t know any better only to twist their minds with poisonous darkness.

He could handle that. Handle the execution of a Maleficar, handle bringing others back that would kick and scream. What he didn’t like was participating in the Harrowings. Watching their bodies twist, flesh bubble like an overcooked stew pot as they formed into an Abomination. Striking them down would never be a point of pride for him, not like other Templars. Then… there were the Tranquil. There were many regrets held deep within his heart when it came to the men and women he had to assist in making Tranquil. Some begged for it to happen so they would not have to deal with the Harrowing, others simply couldn’t be restrained but were not dangerous enough to justify their death. It was a sad thing to endure, to see happen to mages he dared to even call friend. He had learned quickly that getting close to a mage was a bad thing. Having to see a dear friend with hollow eyes, have them no longer able to even feel the camaraderie of friendship. It was the most pain he had ever had to live through.

That was in the past though. The past was a wash of dark and light from one moment to another. Now, he was here, in the Circle Tower.

Here, he had been officially on duty for over three months and everything seemed to run as smooth as Orlesian silk. No fights. No screams. No escape attempts.

There was structure here. There were set times for classes, meals, bed, and his two most favorite parts; attending the Chant and practice. He had to keep himself focused, sharp in spirit, body, and mind. Working with his weapons helped with his body, practicing his techniques of binding kept his mind honed, attending the chant kept him focused on the duty the Maker had given him.

In his last Circle it was only himself and a handful of others that would sit on rickety benches that were meant to be pews. He would end up plucking slivers of wood out of his robes after every service, but it was worth it to hear Andraste’s word. Here, everyone attended, they had to split the sermon into two different times as not everyone could fit into the chapel at once. It warmed his heart to know that these mages actually wanted to better themselves. They wanted to be good people and not slaves to their magic. 

This was a much welcomed difference.

He took in a deep breath as he slowly walked down the aisles of the library as he allowed his mind to muse over the differences of past and present. His armor clad hands were resting behind his back. It was a beautiful library. Shelves so tall they needed special ladders to reach the tops. Scrolls were placed in carefully constructed bins that were ornately decorated and polished with fine oils. Podiums held massive tombs open, welcoming anyone to come and partake of their knowledge. There were large tables, lined with benches where a few mages sat, studying. An elf looked up as Leonardo slowly passed by. He smiled with a small wave. Leo returned the smile with a slight bow before continuing on. 

Yes, he liked this place. Everyone was much more pleasant. There were even a few Dire. He had only come into contact with a few. Harmond, the wolf, scared him at first. Leo wouldn’t really admit it but he had thought the Dire was a werewolf at first until he took in the robes and the eye glass he held up to one eye. In the last Circle there had been only himself. The odd looks he had to suffer weighed on him. He had to suffer more work than was his own just to prove that he was a capable Templar in the eyes of the Humans. Here, though, he felt much more comfortable, especially when he saw… the other… Leonardo slowed his pace when he caught sight of the one he had been thinking of. Tucked away in a deep part of the library, sitting on the floor with his shell up against the bookshelf. Haphazard columns of books were stacked around him as he slowly turned the page of the one he was currently reading. A few scrolls were completely unravelled by his bent knees. Crude blank leafs of paper were next to him that he was forced to use a piece of charcoal to write with. Most likely forgot his ink pot and quill once more. Now that Leonardo thought about it, he had only seen the mage use a quill a handful of times and that was only when he was transcribing.

Such odd, yet unique behavior.

Hazel eyes slowly blinked, olive colored brow was furrowed in concentration. The black feather pauldrons were just as mundane as his brown coat and gray tunic. Dirty black trousers had holes in the fabric showing a desperate need of repair, almost as much as his black boots. The only thing that he wore that was of any quality was the purple sash around his waist. If Leonardo remembered correctly, the shade was called Anderfels Purple due to a rare flower that grew there, it was the only thing could yield such a soft yet rich color. 

From what he had heard, this person was the most troublesome. There was a record of escape attempts from all the previous Circles he had been in. He wouldn’t tell anyone his real name so he had simply been given an Orlesian name as most Dire turtles come from that region. It was a similar reason to his own name, though, he was simply an orphan that could only remember the Chantry. 

Leonardo had been able to dig up some information on Donatello. He was from the Anderfels. He was a small child to his first Circle. That Circle had shut down and the mages had been shuffled into other Circles. The second one he had been in he had learned healing magic. In fact, it was the only magic he knew. It was because of how he excelled that he was requested by the Bann of Rainesfere to be moved for further studies. Donatello had a rather promising future. If he could pass his Harrowing and continue his healing practice he would then be considered to move into Denerim to be a healer at either the Chantry or even the Royal Palace. It was an opportunity that allowed more freedoms and rights than most other jobs for mages. He had overheard some jealous whispers from other mages to gain some of this information.

He honestly would have enjoyed to have been told this in first person but he never really had the time to interact with the mage. When he did he had a hard time finding the Dire. Donatello had certainly proved himself to be elusive but not dangerous as the rumors had said. If he had missed a class, Leonardo would try to find him only to be pleasantly surprised by another templar already escorting a glum looking turtle down the hallway. He didn’t put much thought into it as everyone else seemed to not second guess. The most common thing he heard was that Donatello would be so focused in his studies that he lost track of time. He apparently was a very intellectual individual, enjoying the company of paper and ink than that of Maker given flesh and blood. Leonardo knew that it wasn’t unheard of. There were people back in the Chantry orphanage that were like that. 

Leo had always wanted to talk to Donatello. It wasn’t every day he got to see another turtle and it rather lifted his spirits to see one, mage or no. Seeing as he was on a light duty at the moment it was the perfect opportunity to do what he had wanted to do since the first time he had laid eyes on the terrapin.

Formally introduce himself.

“Pardon me,” Leonardo kept his voice low as he spoke up. 

The mage’s expression scrunched up into a mild irritation. Obviously interrupting his concentration was not exactly welcomed. That would explain the often grumpy look from the past when a Templar would escort him to class. Leonardo would keep that in mind.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, but… I never have had the chance to formally meet you. My name is-”

“Leonardo, I am aware.” Donatello shifted everything he had been working on so he could turn his shell towards the templar. “As I am aware that you know my name as well.”

Leo’s beak scrunched up. That was a bit rude. 

“Yes, well… I heard you are from the Anderfels, yes? I-”

“Let me stop you right there. Before we get into all of this I know your family came from Orlais, you only know this because you wear your father’s armor. You were given an Orlesian name for that reason alone. You grew up in the Chantry’s orphanage with only stories of how you were found on the step. You’ve been trained as a templar in order to feel some sort of family history and you have the highest marks in your class. You’ve been shifted around from Circle to Circle because of your ability to relate and calm mages,” Donatello rolled his eyes, irritated. The rest came out sarcastic, “You’re such a good person and so very talented, thus why they allow you to wear Orlesian Blue and silver robes instead of the typical reds and golds. You’re allowed your unique weapons because of your combatant skills are hard to beat. Top notches for you.”

Leo’s eyes grew wide then narrowed into a cautious gaze. This mage seemed to know a lot about him. It would seem that he was good at not only healing magic but information gathering as well.

“That’s… most impressive.”

Donatello slammed the book in his hands shut. He dropped it to the floor and stood up. As he did Leo noticed a tear in the seam of Donatello’s trousers that was high up on the leg, high enough to see his tail before he straighten his coat to hide it. He felt a small heat creep up to his cheeks at seeing something as private as a turtle’s tail.

He pushed his embarrassment to the side and placed his mind where it should be; with concern. The mage was wearing nothing but rags. The others in the circle at least had robes that were well maintained. Leo would have to look into getting him something better to wear. After all, it was a templar’s job to care for mages.

His concern was raised even more when the olive skinned turtle turned around, eyes hard, hateful. His cheek had a blossoming bruise that was dark and angry. One of his hazel eyes was squinted, slightly bloodshot. It looked as if he had been struck very hard and recently.

“I’m not in this library to impress. I am here to be left alone. I appreciate the desire to get to know another Dire, especially one of your own kind and no offence but you are a templar and I am a mage. We have very little in common. If you need more from me then I shall greet you in the halls. There is no reason for us to share words or bond or anything. Now, unless you have plans for me, I suggest you leave me be.”

The templar swallowed, his previous good mood was now soundly slaughtered. Still, he had been the one to interrupt. Seeing the state of Donatello’s clothing, how he had a tear in the seat of his trousers, he could see the edge of a hole in his boots that was only covered by a tied on cloth, his face was injured; It made it understandable why he was in no mood for pleasantries.

“Please go to the infirmary soon as you can, Donatello.” Leo said softly.

He could feel that hateful glare on him as he turned and left. It would bother him for the rest of the day.

\----------------------------------

It was a few days after his encounter with Donatello that Leonardo had run into him once more. The mage had a stone like feature that made it hard to tell what he was thinking. He no longer had the welt on his face, and from across the hall, Leo believed that his eye was doing well. As if sensing his thoughts, hazel eyes turned from looking down the hallway over to him. His expression didn’t change as he leaned back against the stone wall, arms folded over his chest. The templar blinked a few times, unsure if the mage was silently challenging him or not. Another mage came by, Donatello pushed himself off of the wall and fell into step. The elf started talking while Donatello’s eyes remained on Leonardo for as long as he could before turning away. All Leo could think was, “Strange.” 

The next time he got to interact with Donatello was with the common occurrence of another missed class. He was asked to go find the wayward mage and bring him in after all, it was getting close to Donatello’s Harrowing and he needed to be as well informed about the Fade as possible. 

The first place he checked was the library. When he came up empty handed he went to the canteen, kitchens, Chantry chapel. Nothing. Starting to get worried about the prospect of having a runaway he headed for the dormitories to find a templar already with Donatello. The Dire’s arm was held up high as he was pulled at an awkward angle. His expression was neutral as he wiped blood away from his nose with the back of his free hand. His eyes caught Leonardo’s once more, lingering on him as he was pulled past. The mage stumbled, his uncoordinated weight pulled the one holding him down as he went to the floor.

“Why you-” The templar raised his hand up high, poised to back hand Donatello. The olive turtle squeezed his eyes shut waiting for the impact.

“Hold!” Leonardo barked.

The human kept a hold of Donatello’s arm though he did lower his assaulting hand. “What do you want?”

“He only tripped,” Leonardo came up to them. “Let him walk on his own two feet.”

“He was being obstinate and disobedient, refusing to go to class.”

“That doesn’t mean you get the right to beat him into submission.” The templar Dire’s eyes were hard and cold. “The order dictates that mages are to be shepard, not beaten.”

“What are you, some mage lover?”

“I’m a devout Andrastrian, as you should be.” Leo glared. “Now let him go, or must I report you, Kallen?”

The human let out a scoffing sound. He gave Donatello’s arm one last hard jerk, a painful squeeze so hard the clawed tips of his gauntlet fingers dug into flesh before roughly letting go. He straightened out his shoulders and walked away, chin held high as if he was proud of what he had done. Leonardo scowled. He hated it when people of power took advantage of their position. Just because they were templars that were trained to keep mages from harming others, it didn’t mean that it gave them license to harm perfectly harmless ones. He would report him regardless. Especially seeing small red stains welling up from where he had clutched at Donatello’s arm. 

He made sure that Kallen was a good distance away before offering his hand to the dire on the floor.

“How badly harmed are you?”

Donatello didn’t take the offered hand. He pushed himself up onto his feet, a little unsteady at first but almost falling down again when he violently tried to back away from Leonardo’s steadying hands.

“Don’t touch me.”

Leo frowned. He waited until the mage was fully on his feet before he raised his hand. 

“Donatello, I am going to touch your face. I am only inspecting.”

He reached out, slowly. He watched at the other flinched away from his touch but eventually allowed him to put his hand to cheek. His gauntlet covered thumb gently tucked under chin and lifted so he could get a good look at the swelling around the other’s beak. There was also another blossoming bruise over his jaw and what looked like small round bruises on his neck. He’s seen this before, on other mages in his previous circle. Unfortunately, his hands were tied. He had to be of a high rank in order to do anything about it, he can at least take it to the Knight-Commander or even the Knight-Captain. He would even bring up the fact that Donatello was a mage of interest to the Bann if he had to.

He really hated men like Kallen. 

“Come, let’s take you to the infirmary.” He let his hand drop in favor of being held out to usher the other with him.


	2. Chapter 2

Hard blue eyes watched the mage as he was instructed to remove most of his clothing by the resident healer. The gaze traveled over well toned arms down from shoulders peppered with strange scars that swirled before turning into straight lines. His elbows looked a little thin, the knuckle of his joint was starting to show, which meant that he was only fed enough to redirect suspicion of neglect or in this case, abuse. He had strange knot tattoos on the insides of his wrists, black and prominent. Donatello’s plastron was smooth and flat. No nicks, chips, or cuts like himself. 

Leonardo tilted his head to the side as the healer had Donatello hold up his arm. He didn’t have a hinge. How peculiar… Leo had a hinge, it was nothing but thin cartilage that fused to his skin. It was sensitive to touch but it was still a hinge. The mage simply had a river of olive skin that flowed between yellow plastron and the earthy green of his shell. Speaking of which, Donatello’s shell held bold swirling patterns on the scutes. It was much different than Leo’s, which he had only seen once in the mirror. His was delicate, intricate, almost like a painting. He vaguely remembered someone telling him once about how a Dire turtle could tell where he was from due to what kind of shell he had. Leonardo’s was definitely from Orlais. So… the marking on Donatello’s shell must be what Anderfels Dire turtles have. Perhaps that also explained the hinge.

It was so interesting. 

The healer sighed and grumbled about going to the supply room for some herbs. The elderly human mage snapped at Donatello to stay where he was before leaving the small room.

“You done staring?” Donatello’s voice was flat.

A blush of embarrassment crept up Leonardo’s face having been caught. It was only that they were so different for being creatures of the same race. Maybe he wouldn’t have been so fascinated if he had seen more Dire turtles while growing up. As it was, he had grown up with humans, being exposed to the occasional Dire of another kind only gave him hope that some day he would get to see another turtle some day. It had been a faint hope that dwindled in the light of his Templar studies. Finding Donatello was a double edged knife. He was a Dire Turtle, an intellectual, also a mage that wanted nothing to do with Leonardo.

 

“I’m… sorry. I shouldn’t be-”

“You’re right, you shouldn’t.” The mage rubbed at one of his tattoos. His swollen beak scrunched up as he took in a painful sniff. His eyes on his hands as he contemplated in the sudden silence. 

Leonardo watched his fellow turtle. Now taking in the fact that there were bruises, dark, large blossoms of violated flesh crawling up from under the hem of Donatello’s trousers halfway up his ribs. The bruising bothered him more than the scars on the shoulders. The scars were old and faded, it was something from the distant past that time began to erase. The bruises were current.

“You shouldn’t…” The soft whisper pulled Leonardo’s gaze up to the mage’s face. The turtle was still fussing with his tattoos. 

“I apologize.” Leo spoke up pulling attention to himself. He held their gaze, the silence befalling them once more. Finally, Donatello nodded his acceptance of the apology recognizing the Templar’s sincerity. 

When the healer came back the Dire mage went back to ignoring Leo. 

Leonardo waited patiently as the healer used some magic on Donatello’s bloodied arm and beak. He respectfully turned around when the healer wanted his fellow mage to take off his trousers. No doubt placing poultices over the bruises to help the flesh mend faster.

It wasn’t until he felt someone off to his side that he realized that the session was done. He properly thanked the healer and lead his charge out and into the corridor. It didn’t take long to get Donatello into his class and with a brief, quiet chat with the mage instructor, Leonardo was assured that his fellow Dire turtle would be held after in order to gain the benefits of the full lecture. He then swiftly took his leave, pretending that a set of hazel eyes were not watching him go.

He had to talk to someone about the Kallen. Other templars would get upset with him, say that he was stepping on toes or over reaching the boundaries of his station. He didn’t care. The Order, the laws that the Chantry had placed for the Templars to live by, was clear. Templars were to contain and protect the mages not use them as whipping boys. In every Circle he had attended Leo had made sure to stick with the rules, report everything, even force them to make documents, punished those who needed punishment. He would not stand for people that were created by the Maker to be treated so barbarically. 

He stole himself away to the stairs headed up to the second floor where he would find what he desired. Leo kept his pace normal, trying to quell the sickening rage that made the back of his throat bring up a bitter taste every time he swallowed. The more he thought about it, the more angry he got. His gate widened, pace quickening. He followed the curved walls, ignoring the templars and mages that spotted along the corridor. By the time he reached the Chantry Chapel he had to take a deep breathe to calm himself enough to not slam open the doors.

He closed the doors behind him, feeling a sense of comfort in being in the familiar place. From there, it was easily to allow his anger to wash away. Sinking down onto a pew’s wooden surface gave him the anchor he needed to focus. He had a few light duties to attend to; training, Templar studies of their magic binding crafts, go on guard duty of the second floor laboratories, then double checking the stockroom inventory to make sure no one is nipping anything that they were not authorized to have. Between these duties he would have enough time to check in with Donatello in the afternoon… no… that wasn’t a good idea. It was too easy to befriend a mage if one continued to see about their well being. Instead he could keep an eye on Kallen. The likelihood of him abusing only one mage was unfortunately low. 

Kallen was the aggressive sort. If one did not do as he had said then he would resort to violence with ease. It happened a lot during training, usually the higher ranking Templars could get him to back down with an authoritative bark. The problem with that mages didn’t have authority over Templars. They could bark all they wanted, they had no bite, their teeth and claws for defense removed. It made all the more reason for people like Leonardo to keep a vigil. 

As long as he could keep an eye on Kallen he could keep the victims safe. He would intervene when needed. Report every incident until the man was discharged. Leo would push hard, if need be he would make Kallen into a statement; No matter the rank, the Maker judged all, it was He that blessed them with this office, this sacred duty to watch over his corrupted children, and that if anyone deemed worth of themselves greater than the Maker and besmirched this… 

Leonardo suppressed a growl. His only problem was that the proper procedure would be to go to the Knight Captain first. Carroll was a good man, a rather snarky guard dog that was actually supposed to be keeping an eye on the docks. That was one disadvantage of this particular Circle of Magi, it was parked right inside of a lake. The isolation pushed unto the mages as Fereldans were notorious for being superstitious folk and felt cursed if even living in the same city as a Circle. He would have to wait until his Knight Captain was relieved of his duty before Leo would be able to make his report. Taking it to the top of the chain of command to the Knight Commander would only cause problems. Knight Commanders were always busy, always working with the leaders of the Circles, First Enchanters. Not to mention the timing, there will be several Harrowings soon, the mages tested to see if they would fall to demonic temptations through their magic. It was something that needed meticulous preparations. Bothering First Enchanter Irving and Knight Commander Greagoir with something that could be handled by the Knight Captain was something he couldn’t justify to himself. He would simply have to wait. In the meantime, he could keep himself busy.

 

\--------------------------------------------

Keeping an eye on Kallen was easy. The human Templar was not very careful in pretty much anything he did. He was arrogant, prideful, angry. He even ate with a sort of ferocity that showed his ill temper. An afternoon of observation proved that he was of the privileged sort that enjoyed abusing those that were of lower rank than himself. He beat and shouted at Templar and Mage alike. It didn’t matter to him, he was no better than a bully and like any good bully, he had gathered like minded individuals to surround him. They were weaker, easily malleable to his will, and followed his every command. 

Bryce, a man of a thick body type and even thicker mindset was his main follower. His head sported a bowl cut that curled in tight. He was the half son of a high born Lorde. That part was easy to find out thanks to the gossip in the Circle. Calloway was the bastard of a good lady who couldn’t afford to care for him after her husband had ran away with her own sister. Calloway was tan skinned with rich black hair. His Antivan decent was only noticeable in his looks, though sometimes Leonardo was certain he could hear a slight accent on occasion. Tristan and Rulf were hard to tell apart, both blond with similar shaped, square faces. Tristan hailed from one of the Chantry’s Orphanages as Leonard had himself, which had proven to give Tristan a slight humbler disposition than the others. Rulf was silent most the times, when he spoke he had a deep voice that startled most people. 

Over the next few days Leonardo, quickly found that this little group got away with a lot of things that they should not. Like most of his fellow templars, he had been busy with his own duties to notice. Now that he was purposefully keeping watch he could see how they would make Mages perform chores for them. Use them as if they were mules to carry heavy loads that were not their burdens to bear but the templars. They would interrupt mages in their studies. Take food from their plates. Leo had to step in once when Calloway and Bryce had started to take a female mage away from the hallways when she had been headed to class. She had gone white, face turned down to the stone floor as she silently walked between them.

“Where are you taking her?” Leonardo stepped firmly in the way of their path.

“To her lessons.” Bryce sneered. 

“Her lessons are in the other direction.” Leo folded his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing.

“And how would you know? Were you sent to gather her as we have?”

Leo tried hard not to bare his teeth. He knew what they were going to do to her. He knew full well because he had seen it happen in his previous circles. Templars taking a mage against her will. Defiling her. Defiling their station. Defiling the Order. 

He would not allow it.

“The only thing you have been sent to gather is her skirts so you can rutt like filthy animals.” He watched the two tensed angrily, their faces twisting, armor shifting on their tone bodies. “You will allow her to attend her lectures and this will not happen again. Do we have an understanding?”

“I understand that you don’t know your place.” Calloway clenched his fist. 

He threw a punch at Leonardo. The Dire brought up his arm, deflecting the strike over his shoulder. A quick punch to the human’s nose profited him with a crack of fragile bone and a gush of blood. Calloway gave a shout, stepping back, holding his face. Bryce yelled a profanity that washed off of Leonardo’s shell. The man went to charge, only to halt, his eyes growing wide at how quickly the Dire Templar was able to pull his blade from its sheath. The glint of the fine metal danced with the fire light of the brazer high upon the wall. Blue eyes were hard as steel, daring Bryce to make any movement at all. 

“The Order dictates; Blessed are the, they who stand before the corrupt and wicked and do not falter.” Leo angled his blade, bringing the tip up to touch the bottom of Bryce’s chin.

“You don’t possibly mean-” Calloway’s now nasally voice was muffled by his hand.

“I think my words and my intent are very clear.” Blue eyes showed conviction hard and sharp as the blade in hand. With a small press, Leonardo’s honed blade kissed Bryce’s jaw drawing a bead of red. “You only get this one warning; stain your station and I will scour you out.” 

With a quick movement the Dire Templar sheathed his sword. Leo stepped forward, his shoulder shoving against Bryce. He held out his hand to escort the mage. His voice was soft towards her, “Come, you will be late for your lecture.”

It was hours later, the bright blue sky over Lake Calenhad was now painted dark. Stars were beginning to open their twinkling gaze as the last of day’s light tucked behind tall mountains. At this time Leonardo could be found in the stockrooms with an itinerary and a tranquil mage by the name of Melas. The monotone voice of Melas listing off items and amounts was something that would make others feel uncomfortable. The unnatural tone was a result from severing the connection from a mage and the Fade. They held no more emotions as a result. They did as they were told, questioned only enough to complete the task set for them. Leo had heard others call Tranquil, “creatures”. Demeaning them to a status lesser than a beast. For him, they were still people. Rarely was it their choice when a Templar did their duty. A part of him hurt for the Tranquil as they could no longer hurt for themselves.

“Twenty one bed sheets. Twenty one blankets.” Melas listed.

“If one could call those blankets.” Leo sighed to himself. 

“Thin, thread barren yet still efficient to keep the deeper chill from reaching the bones.” Melas said as if Leo had asked what they were for.

“Melas?”

“Yes?”

“Are these the same blankets reserved for winter?”

“They are.”

“These are not efficient, are they?”

“If you are asking for a mortality rate, we have not had a fatality due to exposure for three years.”

Leo ran a hand over his face. What was the Knight Captain and Knight Commander doing? This place was in the middle of a lake, high up in the mountains. Winters were always harsh in Fereldon. Why would they keep these blankets? Why not have the mages work on making quilts for the winter? Perhaps he should talk with them before fall could bring in its cold embrace for the year.

“Let us… continue with the inventory.”

“Of course.” Melas turned back to the wooden shelves to pull on a wooden crate to count its contents. 

It was half way through the job when Leonardo decided to call for a break. His eyes were starting to hurt, straining from the low light and his stomach had been protesting for any scrap for a while. It was easy enough to get Melas to come to the kitchens with him, the night waxing proving many were done with their chores and tucked into bed already. The kitchen staff was still bustling, getting things ready for the next day. Some bread and mead proved to comfort his aching belly.

Melas wandered around the kitchens as if he could not hold still. Leo found a chair to sit in that was next to one of the counters. He broke apart his bread in small chunks, savoring the crust that tasted lightly of egg wash. He was thankful that the kitchen staff left him alone. It had not been a long day but a taxing one in keeping an eye on Kallen and his goons. Threatening Bryce and Calloway would have its repercussions, he knew it. Bullies always retaliated in means that were cowardly; making someone’s work harder, cornering the person who stands up to them and beat them in secret, stealing their food or lyrium, spreading rumors that were heavy enough to get transfers in the works. They would do something to him and he would be ready.

He took his time eating and when his cup was drained of drink he called out to Melas. They returned to the stockroom. Standing at the entrance he felt a smile tug at the edge of his lips. Torn cloth was thrown about, bottles broken, poultices smashed, various other items strewn around as if a toddler had thrown a fit to punish his mother. 

“How unfortunate.” Melas put in his simple Tranquil way.

It was. Their work would have to start over. The clean up would be long and they made sure to make it hard. He would be questioned by the Knight Captain as to why this was allowed to happen and that was fine by him. After all, Kallen and his little gang were following Leo’s plan to the letter.

What wasn’t following his plan was the presence of the third party that had shown up during clean up. He didn’t say anything, only stood at the entrance to the stockroom. Leonardo had broken glass cradled in his hands. He stood in the debris, Melas shuffled and crouched by a bucket they were using for trash. Hazel eyes watched him.

“You need another bucket.” Donatello bridged the yawning chasm that was the silence between them. “If you mix lyrium with the deathroot extract the results will be harmful.”

Leonardo simply stared. He felt unnerved by how Donatello rolled his eyes, almost scoffed at him as potion seeped into the leather of Leonardo’s gauntlet palms. The mage walked off.

“Was that Donatello?” Melas inquired as he continued to clean.

“Yes.” 

“Had he returned the needle and thread he had been allowed to take to mend his trousers?” 

“...no.”

“Pity.”

Before Leonardo could do much more than dump the glass in his hands away Donatello returned with another bucket. He dropped it down on the floor making a loud sound. Slipping onto his knees he easily set to work.

“What… are you doing?” The templar questioned. 

“You obviously are more suited to the heavy lifting. I’ll aide Melas in salvaging and disposing of the more sensitive items.”

Leonardo shot the mage a glare for the insult. He pressed his lips together to keep a protest under his tongue and settling with the idea that help was welcomed as it was a large job and would take most of the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for this taking so long to get out!!  
> I hope you guys are still interested in this story.

Knight Captain Carroll seemed to take a lot of time outside of Leonardo’s reach. This wasn’t too surprising. The amount of drama that happened in the average Circle would wear on any person, mage or Templar, let alone anyone within an office of power. It was too easy to have understudies run to a high station to bleat like a wounded lamb for attention. Too easy was it for fabrication of an untrue story to be woven into merate and belief. Leonardo had to give credit to his current Knight Captain, it seemed he knew when he needed to stay away from the facades and plays people put on. Most troubles would be forgotten after time, only the true ones that needed his attention would linger. And this, it was lingering. 

Kallen and his little band of thugs have been persisting on giving Leonardo trouble as long as he policed them and how he did. He made certain to watch them like a hungry falcon, ready to swoop down upon them within a blinding moment. He patrolled the hallways wherever they went, he watched them eat in the refectory, he watched them talk with other templars in the Great Hall when they were not on duty. Under his watchful eye they couldn’t do much, but Leonardo couldn’t watch them forever. The small amounts of time that he was not looking they would piss on his bed forcing him to sleep on the floor. They would slip into the kitchen and spit in his food, put rat droppings in his drink, or place a dead mouse in either. Then, one day, things had escalated to a point that had pushed Leonardo’s temper from his usual mild nature to show a beast hidden within. 

Rulf had managed to slip out from under his watchful eye distracted by a fellow templar by the name of Amic. He was a decent sort, one of the rookies that was fresh out of training. Black skinned with the templar regulated shorn hair. He had only transferred in a few months back. Amic was classically the sort that kept to himself until he saw someone he desired to interact with, which he did with some force. Leonardo had seen this a lot with young templars, trained to be a quiet soldier for the Order. When placed in a circle they had to work on figuring out how to talk and be outward once more. It was normal to find a particular person you enjoy the company of and try to be their understudy, in of a sort. Amic, seemed anamired with Leonardo. He wasn’t sure when that had happened only that recently he seemed to be more interested in following the Dire around, fascinated with how he interacted with the mages. 

It was during a time when Amic was walking beside Leonardo, asking questions as to why he treated the mages as he did when Rulf had slipped away. Leonardo knew to anticipate a low-brow prank, when it would come, he was unsure. What he did not forsee came next.

“Mages are only mages because the Maker made them that way.” Leonardo said to the bright eyed youth. “Take… ah-Donatello, could you come here for a moment?”

The turtle mage had been walking by with a group, headed for the library. Hazel eyes rolled as the mage gave a sigh and detached from his party. The other mages halted, willing to wait for their friend.

“Yes?”

Leonardo smiled in a teasing way. “You don’t need to be so excited to see me.”

Donatello only gave him a look of irritation. “Could you hurry this up? I have scrolls to study.”

“Don’t talk to him that way he’s your-”

“I’m his what?” Leonardo asked calmly as Donatello scowled.

“Well, you and I are his betters.” Amic held the expression that told Leonardo that he fully believed it.

“Amic, we are no better than Donatello.” The mage blinked in surprise. Was he really hearing this? “The Maker gave Donatello extraordinary gifts, we are his shepards not his captors. Our duty, appointed by the Maker himself, is to keep balance. Magic is to be ruled not to rule over man. We must make sure that Mages do not become corrupt and harm others, in turn we protect them from others that may do them harm. We should respect them as we respect each other.”

“Now take, Donatello, here for example.” Leonardo put a hand on Donatello’s shoulder which earned him a glare and an attempt to get the offending appendage off. The templar only chuckled, “My apologies.” He held up a hand a hand instead for reference and started over, “Now take, Donatello, for example. The Maker had given him the gift of magic, he excels in healing. He uses it to help his fellow man, but there are some out there that would abuse this blessed gift. The Maker had made him a healer for a reason, just as the Maker has made others that are better at offensive magics, which in turn, they can fight beside us if there is ever a Blight.”

“I see.” Amic shifted his stance as he put a hand on his chin. His mind mulling over the different side of mage treatment that Leonardo was trying to expose him to.

“Thank you, Donatello.” Leo smiled once more at his fellow Dire turtle.

The mage looked at him, waiting for him to suddenly say something about how terrible mages were and how they needed to be held under an iron thumb. That was when he saw Rulf walking down the hallway with Calloway and Kallen coming up from behind Leonardo. The three were grinning like jackals, pleased with something. They pushed past Amic, Rulf raised a hand and in his palm was a white substance. 

“Watch out!” Donatello flinched back in time for Rulf’s hand to smack on the side of Leo’s face. 

The three goons laughed as Leonardo grimaced. He reached up and touched the substance, he wiped it off and looked at it. He glared at his hand, short breaths flaring his nostrils. 

Donnie raised up his arm, fingers holding up the cuff of his coat to keep the thin fabric still. He wiped at the templar’s face.

“Stinking mage lover. How does my ‘love’ feel, huh?” Rulf laughed as Kallen and Calloway pushed at each other laughing away at the humiliation they had just caused.

Leo’s gloved hand clenched into a tight fist. He quickly turned on his heel. The look in his eyes made the mages in the corridor quickly press themselves against the wall. 

He hunched then sprang forward. His shoulder slamming into Rulf’s chest sending the man to the floor. He clutched at his chest coughing. Leonardo raised his foot, heel pointed down then stomped down as hard as he could onto the man’s thigh. The scream that ripped through the air didn’t affect the Dire templar. The brutal action sent a mage running while the others crowded together, clutching onto one another.

“Get off of him!” Kallen surged forward.

Leonardo stepped to the side, his cum slicked hand grabbed the back of the man’s neck. He squeezed tightly before rearing his head back. Kallen’s body bowed into an awkward position. Leo’s blue eyes burned a daring glare at Calloway who had made a movement as if he had wanted to join into the fight, but that glare only pinned him to his place.

“I had warned you.” Leo threw Kallen forward making him stumble, his head colliding into the stone wall of the corridor. 

“You bastard!” Rulf barked as he brought his knee up for him to grab a boot knife. 

“Leo-!” Donatello tried moving forward only to be grabbed by his friends to hold him back.

Rulf’s knife came down stabbing into Leonardo’s calf. The turtle bit down on a shout, a hiss escaping him as his assailant pulled the knife free. Leo caught Rulf’s hand as he came in for another stab. He fought to keep the knife from coming towards him again, pushing hard using his position to put his full weight onto it. Rulf’s wrist rolled as Leonardo pressed down harder than before resulting in a terrible snapping sound. The knife clattered to the side as the man wailed, cradling his arm, his hand hanging limply. 

“RULF!” Calloway jumped forward grabbing hold of Leo’s arms. He slammed the turtle against the stone wall, opposite of the one that Kallen had been tossed into. It was so close to the scared mages that Leonardo’s elbow hit Donatello on accident. Rulf clawed like a madman trying to get his hands around Leo’s throat. Donatello, panicking, struck out, his fist colliding with cheek hard enough to knock the man off balance. The other mages scurried farther down the corridor, not willing to run away as they watched the fight unfold. 

Leonardo’s knee jerked up, catching Calloway in the groin making the man curl in on himself. That was when Leo kicked out, foot connecting to the side of the man’s knee. The scream that Calloway gave and how he clutched at his knee instead of his groin was good indication that the Dire had broken the joint. 

There was a scream from one of the mages. 

Leonardo’s attention snapped over, breath heaving from his struggles. He bristled as Kallen had a hold of the front of an elf’s tunic. She looked in horror at the blade that he was holding up to her chin. 

“Mariana.” Leo heard Donatello next to him.

“You’re gonna stop this right now.” Kallen sneered.

Leonardo reached back, his fingers wrapping around the hilts of his swords. He pulled them out slowly, making sure that the corrupted templar would see every inch of his blades. He remained silent as he watched and gauged. He needed to attack Kallen before he could harm the poor girl but with how desperate Kallen was looking, he may hurt her much faster than Leonardo was willing to concede. 

“Stop!” Donatello shoved himself between the two. “Please! Kallen, please, let her go.”

“Not until he drops those swords.” Kallen pushed the tip of his knife against soft skin. “And now.”

“Leo, Leonardo,” the healer’s voice was shaky as he looked to the templar. His eyes wide with fear. “Please… p-please.”

He hesitated. The whimper of the young elf made his hands flinch, he started to release his grip when there was a sudden bark from a very angry Knight Captain.

“What in the bloody Maker’s name is happening?!” Knight Captain Carroll hollered. 

Kallen let Mariana go, she quickly ran over to Donatello being wrapped in his arms. Leonardo sheathed his swords, as his fellow Dire cradled the elf’s face and looked her over. 

The Knight Captain had a few templars with him, he waved his hand towards Calloway and Rulf. “Pick those two up and take them to the infirmary. Leonardo go straight to my office and you wait there. Kallen.” Carroll growled he stormed forward and easily punched the man in the mouth. He grabbed Kallen by the scruff of his neck. “You’re coming with me to pay the Knight Commander a visit.”

Leonardo did as he was told, blood running down his leg. It hurt to climb the stairs to get to Knight Captain Carroll’s office. He had to favor one leg, making him hop up one step at a time. He was a little over halfway up the winding stairs when he heard his name called up. He peeked over the edge to look down to see Donatello in the stairwell looking up at him. He waited as the mage came to him, he had a rag and a small bucket that he would stop in order to scrub away a splatter of blood before moving on.

“You’re getting blood everywhere.” He stated, not sounding upset nor bored.

“I don’t mean to.” Why did that come out sounding like a little boy being chastised by his mother?

The strangest thing happened, Donatello gave a small smile. Leonardo felt something in his chest flutter at the expression, the gentleness in those hazel eyes. He didn’t know what to say when that little smile disappeared after it had just been born. 

“Well, we can’t have you bleeding everywhere. Sit down and take off your boot so I can tend to your wound.”

“You don’t have to I could-”

“Of course I don’t have to!” Donatello barked. “After all it was your fight, you bruised me up in the process and got Mariana held hostage after you used me as a specimen for you to make example of to your young Templar friend.”

Leo sat himself down on a step while Donatello talked. He began to work on the buckles that kept his grieves over his shins. “A fight in which you aided me not once, or twice but three times.”

“I did no such thing.”

He pulled the grieve free and began to work the boot off with a grimace. “You tried to warn me of the incoming assault, that’s once, you also tried to warn me of the knife, that’s twice, and you gave a rather admirable punch to get Calloway off of me, that’s three.”

Donatello knelt down, placing his rag and bucket to the side as Leo freed himself from his boot. He gently took Leo’s foot in hand. He moved up a step, closer, resting his companion’s heel on his leg in favor of carefully moving the Templar’s pant leg up. “You call warnings aide?”

“What would you call them?” He winced as cloth dragged over his wound.

“I call them a warning. A warning can do very little if not heeded. Roll onto your side, I need to see your wound.”

Leo rolled to his hips, the edge of the stair making it wholly uncomfortable, not to mention Donatello’s feathery touch. The feeling of magic tingled as his wound began to itch. The pain dulled into a sting due to the mage’s work. Flesh and meat mended together under the glow of the mage’s hands, sealing seamlessly away. Once done he rolled back into a proper sitting position.

“There we are, it’ll be uncomfortable until nightfall, but-”

“Thank you.” Leonardo cut off the mage. He reached down and touched Donatello’s hands to show his sincerity. He knew that the Dire didn’t have to follow him. He didn’t have to heal the Templar. Leo could have gone to the infirmary. The wound wasn’t bad, only in a painful spot. What Donatello had done was very much appreciated and he wanted the other to know that. 

“Don’t… don’t touch me…” Donnie pulled his hands away even though his voice was soft.

“I’m sorry…” Blue met hazel eyes, holding. 

“Try not to get mangled any more.” Donatello suddenly got up, he quickly ran down the steps forgetting the rag and bucket. 

Leonardo smiled. The mage was a strange sort but he could tell, there was potential for a great friendship. 

When Carroll got into his office Leonardo was there, waiting. He slammed the door open only to slam it closed to have it bounce back which he slammed it once more making it stick this time. The human looked to be in the midst of a terrible headache, which Leonardo could not fault him for, after all there was a terrible unrest in the ranks now that there was a public fight especially with a mage being held hostage. It would divided the templars and cause upstarts with the mages.

Carroll paced over to a cabinet that he opened and pulled out a clay jar that he uncorked before taking a deep drink from it. The potent scent of unfiltered beer yeast made Leonardo nearly gag in knowing that his Knight Captain was willing to drink fermenting beer. It was a few more drinks before Carroll put it down and finally addressed the Dire templar. 

“Do you mind telling me what has been going on? I have half of the templars barking like bitches in heat, I have the other half acting like feral cats, and let’s not even start with the mages.” 

“I certainly will tell you as long as you document it and send a copy to the record holders.”

“You say that so easily as if I had not caught you with your swords drawn with a mage between you and Kallen holding another as a hostage!!”

“I want you to document everything.”

“And why would I do what you say?”

“Because if you don’t, sir, I will have to take this to the First Enchanter and Knight Commander Greagoir. At that point I would have to report your unwillingness to take this matter seriously especially after what Kallen had done, which by the laws of our great Order he should be stripped of his command and whipped. By how shortly I have been waiting, I have my doubts as to his ‘punishment’.”

Carroll sighed as he rounded his desk. He fetched out a parchment, uncapped his inkwell and picked up his quill. He glared at Leonardo. 

Leonardo nodded with a slight bow showing that he understood the distaste that he had just placed upon the Knight Captain. “I greatly appreciate your efforts.”

“You can appreciate a fine wench. You can appreciate a good mead. Doing paperwork is nothing to appreciate. Now get on with it.” 

“I have suitable suspicions that there are Templars that are abusing the mages. In particular are the men; Bryce, Calloway, Rulf, and Kallen.”

“What makes you think they are abusing the mages?”

“I have observed them remove mages, particularly young men and women, in the middle of classes. One particular time I had intercepted them from taking a young mage women and they had given me the excuse of ‘taking her to class’. In my own experience in my old station that was code for having your way with a mage.”

“What if they actually were taking her to class?”

“In the stairwell?”

Carroll rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Shit… duly noted. Continue.”

“I also have seen evidence of hands being laid upon a dire mage who would not cooperate with their demands.”

Carroll sighed as he paused in writing down Leonardo’s words. “Donatello.”

“You know of whom I speak?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone had come to me about that mage. He’s a soft spoken sort, doesn’t do much to defend himself, it makes him low hanging fruit that many try to pluck.”

Leonardo’s brows knitted together. He stared at his Knight Captain. This was not the first time someone had tried stopping the abuse in this circle? This was not the first time that Donatello had been the subject of such treatment? Not to mention that the Donatello that he knew was of a tenacious character. He wasn’t one to be easily bullied, which means things have been ignored. That did not sit well with him.

“Knight Captain, if you knew that someone had laid hands on a mage, why had you not stopped it?”

“I had. I transfered Donatello out of the circle only to have him returned. First Enchanter Irving’s doing all because of his Harrowing.”

“His Harrowing?”

“Haven’t you noticed? The Maker-be-damned magic user doesn’t have the will to live past it. First Enchanter Irving has been pushing it back for a few years now. Greagoir only allows it because it’ll be a nightmare to let it be done only to have to kill him. I say we should give him a last meal and be done with it but rules are rules.” 

Leonardo ground his teeth together while he schooled his features into a neutral expression. Every mage deserved a Harrowing. Every mage needed that chance to prove to the world that they could not be tempted by the demons of the Fade.

Carroll dipped his quill for some new ink. “That to the side, what else would you like to report.”

“They had damaged property.”

“For instance?” 

“Some of the Stockrooms were vandalized, many potions broken, herbs rendered useless, winter blankets shredded.”

“And you saw them do this?”

“I had not.”

“Then how do you know it was them that had done it?”

“Because earlier that day I had prevented them from having their way with a mage.”

Carroll groaned.

“They had assaulted my own bedding with their urine, have hidden mice in my food, spiked my drink with rat feces, and the whole reason why those disgraces that call themselves Templars are in the infirmary right now is because Rulf had smeared a substance on my face in which I I believe was his seed. When I took action the others got in the way and were collateral damage.”

Carroll paused, his eyes growing wide for a second before they narrowed. “I see. ...That would make any man angry.” He continued to write the rest of what Leonardo had told him. “Is there anything else you wish to report?”

“Not at this moment, but if they persist there will be more.”

“I see, so you wish for a punishment to make them stop.”

“It is only fitting.”

“True. I will find something suitable. In the meantime, you shouldn’t be let off with just a warning either.”

Leonardo wasn’t surprised by this. He had almosted crippled two men. 

The Knight Captain ran a gloved hand over his short blond hair. “As it is, I will have to think upon it. I had honestly did not expect such distress in this Circle, when I came in from the docks it was to gather Donatello and send him off to Redcliffe.

“Bann Teagon’s son had broken his leg. The Bann’s spoiled wife is demanding the best healer to mend the lad.” Carroll stood up. He folded his arms over his chest to look Leonardo up and down. “How is your relation to Donatello?”

“We hold pleasantries.”

“That’s better than others. I’ll pick another man to go with you and the two of you can escort Donatello to Redcliffe.” 

“That is a fortnight’s journey.”

“I’m aware. I’m also aware that temperaments are high in my Circle and I need to separate two barking bitches before more blood is drawn.” The Knight Captain openly glared at his underling. “And don’t worry about your precious report, it will be done. Now it’s midday and if you are to get any ground between here and there you best start packing.”

“Knight Captain… there is one more thing I would like to discuss with you.”

\------------------------------

Donatello looked at Leonardo with suspicion. He wasn’t sure if this was a joke being played upon him or not. He turned his head slightly to look over at Knight Captain Carroll who was currently talking to the Tranquil Melas. The mage incapable of emotions simply wrote down a list of things that would be needed for two weeks of travel for three people. Donatello had been in the middle of studying the technique to create a fireball when his fellow turtle had come in and removed him. He had been unsure as to what Leonardo had desired until they came down to the stockrooms where he was then told to pick out some new robes.

“You’re… jesting.” Donatello finally said.

“I assure you, I am not.”

“I’m not allowed to have new robes, Kallen has-”

“It’s taken care of.” Leonardo offered a soft smile. He held his hand out to the side to encourage Donatello to move in the direction Leonardo’s arm was pointing. 

The olive turtle made a small sound of worry in the back of his throat before he went where Leo had wanted him too. He went into one of the stockrooms and froze. He looked back at the templar accompanying him once more. Was this a cruel joke? Was he going to pick something only to have Leonardo grab it from him and laugh? Was he going to demand a price for it?

He kept his eyes on the Dire, the dual sword wielder only gave him a soft expression. He passed by Donatello and pulled out a basket with colored cloth. He pulled out a brown robe that was much too big. Placing it to the side he pulled out a golden one, slim and slender, not the right build nor the right height. One after another he looked before he had to fold them all and place them back. He took out another basket and began to look through it. Three baskets later he found one that was a muddied blue color. He held it up to the mage that had eventually gravitated over to him. 

“Try this on. And hand me your trousers.”

“My trousers?”

“So I can use them for size. We’ll be traveling for several days, having new trousers will make the journey more comfortable.” 

Donatello hesitated.

“It’s alright, Donatello.” Leonardo reassured. 

Donatello turned his head and mumbled something before taking in a deep breath and started to work on the knot to his sash. He placed it carefully to the side before working on taking off his coat. Leo waited patiently, watching as parts of Donatello’s body were slowly exposed. It still fascinated him that Donatello had no hinge. He couldn’t stop looking at it, straight, plain smooth skin. How did a turtle not have a hinge? 

“You are staring again.” Donatello stood before the templar now, free from all clothing.

“I- forgive me.” Leonardo continued to look. 

Something shifted in Donatello’s tone when he said, “What is it?”

“You… well you don’t have a hinge.”

Donatello held up an arm, he moved back a leg showing off the entirety of his side. He tried looking over his shoulder, now curious. “Is that a strange thing?”

“Well… I-I wouldn’t know.” Leonardo leaned over, he placed a hand to his chin as he inspected. “I thought, perhaps you had a hinge under your skin.” 

“Are you saying that you have one?”

“I do, but you seem to not have one.” He reached out, fingers brushing ever so gently over the flesh.

Donatello flinched away. He quickly grabbed the robe away from Leonardo to stuff it on as fast as possible. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you.” Leonardo could see that he had crossed a boundary with how the mage glared at him. 

“I understand curiosity.” Donatello scrambled to pick up one of his boots, he held it by the toes and waved it in front of Leo’s face. “But if you touch me one more time, Maker help you!”

The templar’s eyes were wide, hands up in the air in a peaceful gesture. Donatello growled, his lip curled up to show his teeth in a snarl. He gave a final glare before grabbing his sash and then storming away without one boot nor new trousers. Leonardo released a breath that he had not realised he had been holding. 

“It would seem that Donatello enjoys you.” 

Leonardo jerked from the sudden dead tone of Melas behind him.

“Melas.” The templar put a hand over his heart. “You should not startle people.”

“My apologies. I was simply coming to fetch the new clothing approved for Donatello. It would seem that you had already begun the process.”

“Begun, yes, finished? No.”

“Do you wish for assistance in completing the task?”

Leo smiled at the tranquil, “I would. ...Melas… what did you mean when you said Donatello enjoys me?”

“He is partial to you.”

“How… how do you know that? Did he tell you?”

“No but if he had disliked you he would have never disrobed willingly and he would have beaten you with his boot.”

Why had that sounded disturbing? Was it because of Melas’ dead tone or his dead expression? Or- “Has he beaten others with his boot before?”

“On many of the occasions.”

“I guess that makes me special then.” Leo tried to look on the bright side of this situation as he set to work on picking up Donatello’s discarded clothing.

“Indeed.”


End file.
